at the seams
by MYZ-chan
Summary: -Tyki/Cyril- It used to be the other way around. Tyki wished that it still was.
1. line them up

"Do you miss her?"

Silence. Tyki can feel the sweat cooling on his skin, his breath making fog appear hazily in the air. The figure beside him shifts, black hair pooling across the pillow. "And who's she, Tyki?"

"You know who I'm talking about, Cyril."

A chuckle. "I'm afraid I don't. It must be the wine, hmm? It makes you…drowsy." Fingers creep across the sheets, making their way up Tyki's stomach and running down, down, down. "Intoxicated," his brother breathes.

The younger makes a small noise at the back of his throat—he can't tell if it's pleased or discontented, to be honest. Still, he lets his brother continue on with his search of Tyki's body (though he's already seen all of it, so he doesn't quite know why he insists on exploring it as if he never has). "Don't change the subject."

"Then do tell me who you mean, brother. I dislike it when you don't tell me what you mean."

"Road."

A pause.

Then: "Why bring her up?"

Another pause.

"Tyki."

"Because I want to know. Can't I just want to know?"

"Of course, but Road is—"

Tyki listens as his brother stutters and stops, stumbling over his words. A rarity—usually Cyril is so eloquent and smooth, trickling words from between his lips like a poisonous brook. Take one sip and you're under his spell.

"Can we just go to sleep, Tyki?" Cyril finally says, retracting his hands and inclining his head down, hair proceeding to cover his face. "I'm a bit tired, you see. I'm sure you are too."

"Brother—"

"Tyki." A shaking, shuddering breath and Tyki watches, regret spilling into his conscious as he watches his brother almost shrink in front of his eyes. The elder reaches a hand up and passes it over his face. "Sleep. You'll need it."

He rolls over, and Tyki watches his brother slip away again.

* * *

The beginning to a piece that should have been a simple drabble. ._. What is wrong with me.

This is Tyki/Cyril, not Cyril/Tyki - at least to me. Emotionally, I think that Tyki trumps Cyril in that regard, but of course, that's just me. :D We all have different takes on characters.

Also, I am linking stuff I've done for the DGM kink meme in my writing journal. If you're interested, you can look there (though I don't recommend it, as it's really amateur work).

S - sorry if I sound kind of depressed, I'm just so tired, agh. _; Summer is supposed to relax you, not kill you slowly.


	2. take the needle

It used to be the other way around, this chasing.

"Tyki," Cyril mutters, amused, spider-fingers attempting to pry off the not-so-spider-like ones off his jacket. "Tyki, I have a meeting in an hour."

"Can't you spare the time?" Tyki buries his face in the crook of his brother's neck and breathes in the sweat and cinnamon and flowers. "You used to be able to."

He can tell that his brother is smiling still, but still his spider-fingers grip at Tyki's. "Times are harder now, maninho. We don't have that luxury anymore."

"Well, I want it." Tyki stops. It couldn't hurt, could it? To be selfish. "Now, irmão."

It didn't, as Cyril chuckles. Tyki relaxes. "You always want what you can't have, don't you?"

And then Cyril turns his head until his nose is buried in Tyki's hair, his smile curling over the shell of Tyki's ear. "I thought that was my job," he breathes, sending shivers down the younger's spine.

Tyki lets himself smile; he knows that a small victory now belongs to him. He brings his head back until he can look his brother in the eye, gold to gold. "Then don't you want me?"

His brother pauses. Tyki continues to smile.

He will win.

He always wins these games of theirs.

And when his brother speaks again, it is a whisper filled with broken cracks and desire. "I always have, maninho."

When their lips meet, Tyki pressing down so hard that Cyril has to surface back for air, Cyril himself biting down so hard on Tyki's bottom lip that it draws blood, Tyki closes his eyes and breathes, just breathes. Lets his fingers reach up and entwine in his brother's hair as he presses him back against the wall, guttural noises in the back of their throats.

They can break the absence this way, the emptiness of her missing shadow.

* * *

Maninho: Portuguese for 'little brother'. Irmão: Portuguese for 'brother'. Used Google Tranlator for both of these, so I'm not quite sure if it's right. Please feel free to correct me if they aren't. :D

I didn't beta this very well, so if there's something weird about this chapter that you want to address to me, go for it!

Review Responses to:

Zenophobic: Thank you! Hope I updated it fast enough? :D

Kibahshi: It's not bad at all~ :3 And pfft that's my opinion too, don't worry. Thank you!


	3. slip the thread

He cannot tell anymore when his brother is really smiling or simply faking it to please him.

Tyki does not confront him about this, though—he knows that Cyril is busy with diplomats, busy with accepting the condolences of fellow politicians about his wife and his poor, poor daughter. How horrible, that they died in such a terrible crash. How terrible, that the person who did it was never found.

Indeed, it was a terrible thing.

It is in bed that, rolling over on his side and tracing the scars on his brother's back that Tyki suddenly draws his brother close. In a fit of childishness, he buries his face into Cyril's back, squeezing his eyes shut.

Cyril breathes in sharply, looking over his shoulder with hazy eyes. "What is it, Tyki?" he murmurs.

"Answer me honestly this time, Cyril," Tyki mumbles thickly. "Do you miss her?"

Cyril is utterly silent. Under his skin, Tyki can feel his brother's heart beat slowly at first—bump, bump, bump—before speeding up, faster and faster like a rabbit. Bumpity-bump-bumpity-bump, frightened prey running from the predator.

"Why do you ask, Tyki?" Cyril rolls over to face his brother, gold eyes dulled from lack of sleep. "Tyki, I'm beginning to worry about this obsession of yours. You always ask this after we—" he stops. Clears his throat, and then continues. "After we go to bed."

"It's not obsession if I simply want to remember her." Tyki reaches up and brushes a stray hair from his brother's face. "And I want you to quit running."

"Who's running? Really, Tyki, you're being very silly."

Tyki can feel his eyes narrowing. "You're forcing yourself."

Cyril narrows his eyes right back. "I most certainly am not. Just go to sleep, Tyki."

"Give me your answer."

But Cyril has rolled over and is already asleep. End of discussion.

As Tyki traces the scars again, he can see a bloodstained smile in the darkest depths of his mind. _You can do anything you want with him right now, you know,_ says Joyd, laughing. _He is yours._

"Mine," he whispers, eyes growing heavy. "But do I want him to be fully mine?"

And when he closes his eyes, he can see the blood covered smile flicker once, twice, and then go out like a light.

* * *

Updating this every weekend. :D

Zenophobic, thank you so much for reviewing!


	4. weave it through

His brother has not been himself lately. Tyki can see from the corner of his eyes that his brother does not sleep as much, does not eat. He goes outside once in a while, but only for short periods of time.

In short, he is wasting away.

And not even he, one of the greatest actors that Tyki has known, can hide this from him.

In the end, Tyki ends up dragging his elder brother with him to town.

"Brother," he says quietly as the carriage rumbles on. "Brother, look at me."

A quick drift of the eyes, and Tyki sees the dark bruises under them. Cyril smiles. "You didn't have to go through the trouble."

"I did."

Cyril chuckles. "You did not, but you felt the need to. How sweet."

"You're my brother. I can't just sit back and watch you fall apart."

"You're imagining things, dear," Cyril says smoothly. "You're mistaking work for dying."

"Work _is_ dying," Tyki snaps. "And that's exactly what you're doing."

Cyril's smile twitches. Tyki knows then that he is indeed wasting away, as Cyril does not let down his mask even the slightest if he can help it. "Don't be melodramatic, maninho; it doesn't suit you."

"I'm not. Cyril, look at yourself."

"I'm afraid that we don't have mirrors in here, Tyki, or I would."

Tyki snarls. "_Brother_."

Cyril does not even flinch. Instead, he turns to stare out the window at the same moment they pass by a small group of people. A family, it seems. The little girl clutches the mother's hand, and the father talks excitedly with his wife.

Her other hand is clasped over her swollen belly.

Cyril closes his eyes. "I'm very fine, Tyki," he says with a sigh. "I'm fine."

"You can't run from her death forever."

It is very sudden, the way his brother moves. Tyki knows that he has driven his brother off the edge, off the cliff as the elder suddenly lunges for him. Spider-fingered hands clutch at Tyki's throat and squeeze and squeeze until Tyki is gasping and trying to wrench his fingers off as the carriage continues to rattle along. If only he could still phase, he curses internally, if only he could still phase and Cyril could still control and Road, Road, _Road could still dream_.

"Do _not_," Cyril hisses, wild-eyed and composure gone out the window. "I have told you, Tyki, do _not bring this up_. I have told you so many times to not to talk about this, to not tell me of this, but you insist." The fingers squeeze harder. "Maninho, _why must you insist_?"

"Irmão—"

The carriage stops, and Cyril takes in a sharp breath, releasing Tyki's throat and sitting back heavily on his side of the carriage. His face is stricken, pale, the dark bags more prominent than before. "Tyki," he whispers, body shuddering. "Tyki, forgive me."

And Tyki does, because they are brothers and this is the way they are. "I always have."

* * *

I imagine that there are at least three more chapters of this left, so I guess that's something to look forward to?

Zenophobia: Ah, but if I tell you now, it'd take all the fun out of the story, wouldn't it? ) Do not worry, though, you shall see. Thank you very much! I shall try even harder.

Sharpshifter: Road is the cement to the Noah family, in my opinion. Without her, nothing ever really seems complete. And thank you~ I do enjoy writing pretty things. :D


	5. pull it tight

It is when Tyki is called to the front of the mansion that he knows that something is wrong. He rushes past the ambassadors, past everyone else. His feet are fast and quick and his legs are strong.

When he gets to the front, though, that's when his legs give out.

Cyril is in the street, looking down at the woman lying below him. It is the same woman from a few days before, with her swollen belly and thin hands. Her eyes are glazed over, blood running from her mouth. Cyril's are as well, but his hands are shaking as he reaches down for her hand.

And that is when Tyki sees the blood on his hands.

Tyki is there in a flash, regaining control over his legs. He grasps the spider-fingers and begins to pull his brother away.

"Cyril," he mutters, even as his brother stares at the body. "Cyril, we have to leave. We're making a scene." His brother does not respond, though he allows himself to be pulled. "Cyril, come on."

The little girl is on the street now as well. As she stares down at the woman that was her mother, she begins to cry. Silent tears, tears that flow soundlessly from her eyes and onto the corpse of her mother as she screams, screams and screams as she reaches down and shakes her mother hard.

"Mommy!" she screams. "Mommy, wake up! Mommy!"

Cyril is still staring at the woman's corpse, and he flinches when he hears the girl's screams. Tyki still pulls at him, pulls until the brother's are inside. "Close the doors," he orders the guards, and they do.

It is when they are both inside their room that Cyril finally collapses.

"Deus," Tyki mumbles under his breath, pulling at his brother. "Deus, brother, get up!"

Cyril does not respond. His hands are trembling, still coated in the drying copper blood. He does not look as though he will cry—more as if he wants a knife in his hand. A curved, sharp knife.

"All right," Tyki grumbles, "up you go." He wraps his arms under his brother and pulls him into the bed. "There," he says, sighing, sitting next to his brother and pulling him close. "It's going to be all right."

For a long time, neither of them say anything. Cyril is mute, eyes wide and glazed over. Tyki simply waits in fear.

And then: "I killed her."

Tyki looks down at his brother. He does not seem like his elder brother anymore—he is too weak, too drained for that. "I know," he says quietly, and he knows that they are not just talking about the woman in the street. "I know, brother."

When Cyril looks up at Tyki, the younger man can see that he is weeping.

"I killed my daughter."

* * *

Deus: 'God' in Portuguese.

Well, well, an early release. I purposefully made this chapter a bit choppy and less smooth than the others to fit with the emotion. Frantic, panicked, afraid. Nothing's never really smooth with those emotions, so I made this one like that as well. I hope I succeeded? And everything will be explained the next chapter, so please be patient.

Zenophobia: Hopefully he will. :( But don't count on it, I'm not that kind. And thank you!

Kibahshi: A few weeks, not that long. :D And it's okay, technology is evil. Thank you for the review! And I hope I shall.


	6. cut it off

When the war ended, the Millenium Earl was dead. Allen Walker had managed to survive, albeit with both eyes gouged out. The Black Order retreated, as did the Noah, and all was peaceful.

Perhaps.

No one was expecting Road to go mad.

And no one was expecting her to slaughter her family.

It was almost midnight when Road killed Tricia, long after she tore apart the twins and Lulubell. She had ripped out her mother's flesh with giant sweeps of her shears, cut out her eyes and let down her hair.

When Cyril and Tyki got to her, she was playing dress-up with her mother's corpse.

She did not recognize them.

Tyki remembered only blacking out after Road threw the table at him. He had lost his phasing abilities back when he fought Allen Walker for the last time, and Cyril had lost his strings. How could they defeat her? While Road was no longer_ The_ Road, she was still strong, powerful. There was no possibility that they could kill her.

But when he awoke, he saw Cyril, crouched over Road's prone and still body. The shears drip, drip, dripped onto the floor red blood and bits of flesh. Cyril clenching them so hard that his own hands were bleeding.

And Tyki knew.

He knew.

They posed it as an accident. A hit and run, the mother and daughter having gone out for a stroll and never coming back. No one questioned this. No one suspected the truth.

No one else had to know.

No one but them.

* * *

And so the truth come out. This is the second to last chapter, guys. D:

Zenophobia: Well, now you know. :( I told you I'm not that merciful. Thank you!

Tsukikkage234: I - I don't think I write THAT well. ./. But thank you! Glad you enjoyed it.


	7. and tie the knot

The woman's family never found out who had killed her, save for the daughter, who was hushed. They were told that she had been hit by a carriage, and they fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. It was painstaking, the way that Tyki had to lie to their faces, but it was the only way to go.

It was the only way to save his brother.

It is two weeks later, and Tyki lies on top of his brother, breathing heavily. He can feel the sweat running down both of their bodies, slow and luxurious. Guilt permeates the air painfully, so painfully that he knows that his brother cannot run anymore.

And Cyril breathes as well, nails still partially dug into Tyki's shoulder blades.

He is still not well, and Tyki suspects he never truly will be.

But Tyki can feel, feel his brother trying to smile against Tyki's neck, feel him retract his nails and run his hands over Tyki's back.

He can feel him trying to breathe.

"Tyki, while I do appreciate the warmth, anymore of this and I will suffocate."

Tyki chuckles, rolling over and pressing his face into Cyril's hair. "Are you implying that I'm fat?"

Cyril laughs. "Perhaps."

They are silent for a while. Tyki can feel his brother's bones, his brother's heart and pulse beating against his chest. He can hear the distant echo of Joyd's remains telling him to do it now, do it now, make him yours, fool.

But he won't.

He couldn't, anyways.

"Do you miss her?"

He knows that Cyril is seeing it again, the blood on the shears, his hands wrapped around the handle and struggling with his daughter for control. He knows that Cyril can see the shears, slipping and running themselves through Dreams. Dreams is falling in his brother's head, and Cyril knows that it is his fault.

But he cannot run.

Nor will he.

"Of course I do," Cyril says quietly, brushing a few stray hairs from Tyki's face. "I miss her very much, Tyki."

And when Tyki closes his eyes, he sees the bloodstained smile drip away and vanish into the darkness for good.

* * *

The end, folks. It's been a good run, but I'm afraid that the curtains must close and the actors must take their leave.

This story had its faults, and it had its good sides. It will never be my best work nor my worst, and some days I may look upon it with distaste - but in the end, I will be happy that I wrote it.

Thank you for the good times, Kibahshi, for being my first reviewer and reviewing when you could. Thank you, Tsukikkage234 and Sharpshifter, for encouraging me the last steps of the way. Thank you to all you anonymous readers out there who might have looked at this story and kept on trekking, even through the worst parts. And thank you, Zenophobia, for always, always replying to every chapter and for always encouraging me. This story would not have gone on long without you there. That goes for everyone as well.

I hope you have enjoyed this story.


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